The Celebrated Company of Nuoskajoki
by RebelsAdvocate
Summary: Visit our curious little town in northern Finland - explore the workings of a family-run ski resort, discover a mysterious long-lost artifact, and have a semi-cursed season of magic and adventure!
1. Company Minutes

**Description:** _ **Visit our curious little town in northern Finland - explore the workings of a family-run ski resort, discover a mysterious long-lost artifact, and have a semi-cursed season of magic and adventure!**_

 **Hello, everyone!**

 **This time, it's something a little special. A favorite writer of mine, the wonderful Vyra Finn (on this site), is right now hosting the second of her fic sprees on her tumblr (vyra-finn)! She's been helping me and other writers with Nordic-related stories, and has been giving me amazing insight for—what?—** _ **months**_ **now. It's finally time, and I'm honored to play a part in the event, even if this is just the first chapter-and-a-half of my story. If you aren't already familiar with Vyra, please** _ **please**_ **check out all her stuff. She's a native Finn, super friendly, a marvelous writer, and speaks like a bajillion languages. You don't know half the awesome stuff you're missing.**

 **With her help, I've tried my best to present what I'm presenting. This story won't be too long, but I'll do my best to also keep updates consistent. Leave a review if you like!**

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Company Minutes

 **Call to Order**

The weekly meeting of the family-run vacation organization was called to order by honorary president Tino Väinämöinen on Wednesday at 19:00, in Nuoskajoki's local library.

 **Attendance**

In attendance including Mr. Väinämöinen were secretary Berwald Oxenstierna, board chairman Mathias Køhler (along with a horrific-looking cake), treasurer Lukas Bondevik, and relations officer Emil Bondevik-Steilsson. No members were absent. No guests were present, but it must be noted that treasurer Bondevik made many glances and even exchanged a few words with an empty seat to his left.

 **Approval of Minutes**

Secretary Oxenstierna read an abridged version of the minutes from the company's last meeting. President Väinämöinen motioned for their approval. The rest of the members unanimously approved through the use of grunts and nods. Chairman Køhler approved by obnoxiously babbling, "Just get on with it! You're mumbling again." He was not immediately thrown out, to the disappointment of some.

 **Treasurer Report**

Mr. Køhler finally closed his mouth when treasurer Bondevik chose the moment to announce that the company was "as of this moment, plus the costs of the medication we'll have to take if we eat that monstrosity of a cake you brought, we will be exactly three thousand and forty-nine euros in debt." The statement was acknowledged with some groaning from the other members and an announcement of "No one asked, Lukas. Literally no one asked," from officer Emil. When Mr. Køhler retorted with, "Hey, I spent _hours_ on this cake, baby!" Mr. Bondevik responded by saying, "Make that three thousand and fifty euros." There were no objections.

 **President Announcement**

To everyone's relief, it had come time for the wonderful and very handsome Tino Väinämöinen (or Oxenstierna-Väinämöinen alternatively) to make his statements. He presented a very interesting and inspiring dialogue (captured word-for word by the very capable and also very handsome secretary on attached pages one and two) concerning the nature of what they would have to do to make up the money, and then encouraging the members to give Mr. Køhler's cake a try, saying it was "Not that bad! Really good, actually!" There was some dispute prompted by this.

 **Vote for the Cake**

A vote was taken to decide whether or not the members should try the cake, and the outcome was a positive 3-2 decision. The entire cake was finished, but in secretary Oxenstierna's humble opinion, it lacked salt and definitely had too much icing.

 **Public Relations Officer Report**

Officer Emil was prompted by his older brother, Mr. Bondevik, to give a status update about any current issues coming from the public. Emil went red-faced and said, "Wait, _what_ current issues? I didn't have a presentation prepared! There _is_ no status update!" Mr. Bondevik stared at his brother, then sighed out, "I guess that's for the better, then." Emil shook his head and motioned for the allowing of his earphones back.

 **Motion for Allowing of Earphones Back**

The motion was declined by Mr. Bondevik, and the meeting continued.

 **Chairman Speech & Motions**

Chairman Køhler delivered an unwarranted ten minute-long rant detailing the toils of his recent travels to Finland and trivial things he had noticed along the way. After he was steered away by the treasurer from topics such as, "I forgot to pack my special favorite red long underwear," and "I almost drove my rental car into a lake on the way here, it was horrible!" Mr. Køhler cut back to the point. He presented a handwritten plan for the next few weeks, a rough schedule detailing what would need to be done by each of them to keep the Nuoskajoki ski resort running smoothly. Each member took turns inspecting it, editing it, and approving their separate part, as they had done so for years.

 **President Signs Out**

After modifying his schedule, Mr. Väinämöinen left the meeting early on account of having extra schoolwork to grade for his students before the night was over. He prepared himself a drink at the coffee station before heading out, and jokingly announced he was "handing over his honorary president authority to my husband for now." The chairman was the only one to comment, complaining "I've seen the stuff the Swede writes about me in the minutes! As secretary I think he has enough authority already—maybe _too_ much!" Mr. Oxenstierna and his dignity declined to answer to this outrageous insinuation and instead moved on to present his report.

 **Secretary Report**

Mr. Oxenstierna presented data he had meticulously gathered from other winter vacation resorts around the region—records of how many visitors they were getting, and of what type. He noted differences between them and Nuoskajoki, and gave ideas on how to compete. Relations officer Emil was the only one to respond with anything besides a thoughtful nod, issuing a distant, "Oh."

 **Other Business**

The secretary announced that also a few of the snowmaking machines were in need of repair, and a few of the roofs on the stayhouses needed refurbishing.

Treasurer Bondevik announced he intended to purchase better sets of snowshoes for the new hiking trail before the week was over, and the south slope needed remarking.

Mr. Køhler leaned in and announced he was very much anticipating his upcoming date with Mr. Bondevik on Saturday.

Mr. Bondevik announced he appreciated the gesture, and offered for Mr. Køhler to trek the five kilometer champions' nature hike through the frozen wilderness with him if he was anticipating it so much.

Mr. Køhler refrained from accepting or declining. He said he had stuff to do in the restaurant.

Emil declared "Ugh, you guyyyyyssss…"

 **Final Announcements**

There were no final announcements.

 **Adjournment**

Chairman Køhler moved to adjourn the meeting, with an "Alright, everyone, good show! Now who's buying us drinks?" All present members approved. The time of dismissal was 21:38.


	2. Meanwhile, Tino

_Meanwhile..._

Tino braced himself for the cold when exiting the library. He was right to do so, too; in just that first step out of the warmth and safety, the tread of his shoe met with an angry patch of ice. He yelped and skidded away from the bad spot, grasping out blindly for a nearby telephone pole to help him regain stability. Some of his coffee sloshed through the holes in the lid. Finally standing still on the cropped sidewalk, he shivered and hugged himself. "Wow, what a beautiful night!"

He made a quick decision to leave the car for Berwald in favor of taking a short walk home. The cold was relentless, but Tino intended to use it to clear his mind after the meeting. And besides, the new extra-warm coat he had just bought for the season needed to be put to use! Tino began strolling through the streets, careful to watch out for more slippery pavement, but freely enjoying the scenery around him.

It truly was a beautiful night. Nuoskajoki was mostly a typical small northern town, designed friendly to navigate for the tourists and skiers who flew in among the flakes of the first snowfall. However, in between winter gear shops and postcard stocks were signs of the everyday life of those that lived there. All Tino had to do was pass the supermarket, cross a bridge over the river, take a shortcut through some trees, and he was practically home. He and Berwald lived together in a small cabin just outside town, but it may as well have been pure wilderness for the surrounding thicket of birch trees and the pond eating up to their backyard. The ski resort was on the opposite side of the town's outskirts, where the view of the stars and Northern Lights wasn't as obstructed.

Thinking of the Lights made Tino glance up in curiosity, but, no…they hadn't made an appearance yet this evening. He spotted a family huddled together in the doorway of one of the hotels across the street, their faces toward the stars, too. Tino smiled to himself, sipped his coffee, and continued walking.

Soon he had made it to one of the small wooden bridges that crossed the river. The path beyond didn't have as many streetlights, so Tino brought out his cell phone to use as a flashlight just in case there were more evil patches of ice he needed to avoid. The river was small and slow-moving, but it connected with other streams to run all the way out to sea. Tino thought his family and students might be a little disappointed if his dead body had to be dragged out of it.

Tino kept his boots on a clear line ahead, listening for night noises. His phone light swung from side to side. He couldn't wait to get home, put on pajamas, relax and—what the hell was _that?_

Something under the bridge had just reflected off of Tino's makeshift flashlight, so bright it had temporarily stunned Tino's eyes. He took a step back from the wooden overpass, looking around. The nearest streetlight didn't reach down there. All he could see were the layers in the river, water as black as the sky. When the spots cleared from his vision, Tino carefully directed his light towards the ground again.

 _There—_ two meters below him, half-buried in slushy weeds was the shiny object. From the way it gleamed and sparkled, Tino discerned it couldn't be just a piece of litter or trash left behind by a careless someone. It bobbed slowly in the current, showing an irregular shape and a bright, vibrant coloring.

Before he knew what he was doing, Tino was treading down the riverbed, his shoes oozing into the mud. His phone spotlighted the object, making sure it didn't try to float away. Tino crouched in front of it.

The thing appeared to be a little smaller than his hand, made out of...something. It curved and pointed erratically, and its edges were defined by jagged cuts, as if it was a broken part from something bigger. Tino cautiously picked it up with two gloved fingertips. The object's coloring was truly beautiful. Mesmerizing. Every time he blinked it teased him with a different hue—silver, purple, red. And, strangely, it was warm.

Tino stood, shaking the thing to get the cold stream sludge off. It pulsed in his hand, flashing gold. Tino blinked again. This was no mere piece of pollution. In fact, it didn't even look like it could have come from anything in this town. Was it part of some decorative pottery, or a gift shop gag? Had it fallen off someone's car? It did look like it could be some piece of...machinery. It looked like it could be many things. Whatever it was, Tino couldn't just leave it there to be washed away by the river. He carefully dried the last sheen of water off the top, enjoying how it felt in his hand. It felt curiously comfortable in his hand. He decided to take it with him.

A breeze whispered past him as Tino stepped back onto the bridge and crossed for real this time. He remembered that he was cold and tired and had a long day of work tomorrow. Berwald could already be home by now. He pushed forward into the darkness, a spring in his step and a peculiar object in his pocket.

The house was sleeping when Tino arrived. He hung his coat up by the door and passed through Peter's room, listening for the sound of steady breathing. Peter was their mischievous adopted son who had a passion for mischievous things like staying up past his bedtime for hours on the computer, blogging and engaging in Twitter wars. Tonight Tino was assured to hear only quiet snoring. He smiled to himself and took a seat at the desk in the kitchen. Hanatamago, their small, fluffy, white dog sleepily padded over and nuzzled against his ankles.

For a while, Tino worked on schoolwork, finishing off his cooling drink. The object in his pocket felt heavy, so he took it out and placed it next to his hands on the desk as he worked. The wind picked up outside, whistling through the cracks in the windows and over the roof. Hanatamago fell snoring at his feet. After the fifth administration email, his eyelids began to sink as well, and the creaks and groans from the house began to lull him to sleep. He wondered again if Berwald was already in bed.

Tino tiptoed down the hall once more, easing open the bedroom door. The bed was empty. Tino decided to put off the rest of his work for the morrow and wrapped himself in comfy pajamas. He set the strange object on his dresser, not sure what else to do with it. The lamplight spilled onto its glossy surface, washing the whole room aglow. Tino hesitated when turning the lamp off.

Just a few seconds after his head hit the pillow, the bedroom door quietly opened. Tino drifted back to attentiveness from out of his sleepy reverie. He sensed Berwald's familiar movements around the bedroom as he too prepared for sleep—the closet doors opening, the sink running, the toilet flushing—and relished that his husband hadn't turned the light back on again. Tino yawned and waited.

A soft click as Berwald set his glasses onto his nightstand, and then the bed was shifting with his added weight. Tino could feel that Berwald was cold as he snuggled in. After a minute of calm breathing, the softest whisper drifted over the covers. From Berwald: "You asleep?"

Tino shifted over to face him. He couldn't quite see Berwald's face in the dark, but he could reach out to touch and kiss it, and he did so. "Not yet. Did the meeting run late?"

"A little, yes. Then I had to pick up some parts to fix the snow machine."

"Ah," Tino mused, wrapping himself under Berwald's arm. "It's getting so busy."

Berwald sighed, relaxing into the pillows. He pulled the blankets in closer, up to their chins. "How was your walk?"

Tino thought again about the strange object only an arm's length away on the nightstand behind him. He wasn't sure why he had taken it, anyway—some weirdly interesting knickknack he had found in the gutter. It would seem silly to mention to Berwald now, Tino presumed, so he refrained. "Fine. Nice. It sure is getting cold! My coffee got cold in like five minutes! And then I had to answer emails. The helpers kept spelling my name wrong. Exhausting. I...hope tomorrow goes okay. For me and for the rest of us, I mean. I really hope the resort runs well this year. Lots of people…" He yawned again. His limbs felt heavy and unmovable. "Lots...of...fun..."

There was a deep rumbling noise as Berwald softly laughed. "You are tired. Get some sleep."

Tino felt his eyelids falling shut. He was consciously aware of his heartbeat slowing...slowing…as the distant noises of the night distanced themselves further from their now-warm bed. "I'll sleep when I'm dead," he retorted, then passed out.


	3. Good Morning, Emil

The bass was still too loud. Emil adjusted his headphones. Maybe the volume was just too high? He clicked to play the segment again. Nope, there was definitely too much bass. He dragged his fingers across the pad to moderate the sound, when suddenly—

" _Incoming!"_

Emil's head whipped up just in time to get a good view of someone falling through the lobby doors. He detected it was Mathias from his unmistakeable voice, for the man's face was obscured by a large pile of brand-new snowshoes and poles. Amazingly, Mathias was able to catch most of them before they clattered to the floor.

"It's snowing outside!" Mathias exclaimed to Emil once they had cleaned up the mess. Indeed, flecks of white stained the Dane's coat, and his face had turned a familiar frosty pink. "These are for my dear Norwegian—uh, where did he want them, again?"

"It's _always_ snowing outside," Emil retorted, setting a pile of poles up against the desk. Mathias stacked the snowshoes in a haphazard pile on top; they blocked Emil's papers, which, in hindsight, he shouldn't have been annoyed about since he had been ignoring the work anyway. "I have no idea where Lukas is right now, but you can't leave these here!"

Mathias nodded, ruffling a hand through the hair that protruded from his wool cap. It must be difficult for him to wear a hat, Emil thought. Nothing stopped the man's bright blond hair from achieving its gravity-defying goals. "I'll take them to the supply room. We've been getting a lot of check-ins this morning, then?"

Emil faltered. "We have?" The lodge normally had a regular stream of people coming in and out; some decked out in full ski gear, some just lost tourists, some Emil's family, or others who worked for the resort. He and Mathias alternated between the front desk tasks of dealing with these people and the errand-running, word-spreading tasks. (Certain days were better than others.) Lukas was almost always out on the mountain training new skiers or testing the slopes himself, while Berwald worked either in the restaurant or machinery repair. Tino was busy teaching, but he occasionally stopped by to help with small jobs. Emil hadn't noticed a particularly large crowd of people checking in today, but then again, he hadn't really been _trying_ to notice…

"A couple of cars just pulled up, I think," Mathias offered over his shoulder, piling the snowshoes back into his arms.

Emil crossed back behind the desk and stirred his computer from sleep. He reluctantly closed out of his music tab and opened up the check-in site. Five new names popped up to corroborate Mathias's words. Emil prayed for fast Internet as he handled the contacts, wondering when had been the last time the resort had gotten five new visitors within a morning's few hours.

"Ah, there you are." Emil looked up to see Lukas walking in, fresh white powder covering his ski suit, a pair of goggles around his neck.

"Hey!" Mathias waved, and a pair of poles started to slide off the mass in his arms. Lukas stepped in and caught them with grace. "Your delivery has arrived!"

"I see that," Lukas smirked, brushing snow off Mathias's shoulders. " _The Iceman Cometh._ How's my brother doing?"

"Just fine," Emil answered as he glanced up from his typing, keeping his fingers moving to convey professionalism. "Apparently today's a busy day."

"Is it, huh?" Lukas gathered half of Mathias's load, standing near Emil's desk. His eyes studied him.

"It is!" Mathias proclaimed excitedly.

"A couple more check-ins than usual, that's all," Emil explained with ease, adjusting the collar of his uniform shirt.

Lukas nodded. "That's good. We'll be no longer in debt. Call if you need help, okay?"

Emil rolled his eyes. "I'm _sure_ I won't be able to handle any of it."

Mathias snorted in the background, while Lukas's expression hardly changed. "I know you will. Good luck! I will see you for dinner, yes?"

"I thought tonight was...uh, for you and the Dane?"

"Our date night, you mean?" There Lukas conjured up a little smile. "That would be tomorrow."

"Sure, I'll just mark it on schedule," Emil retorted. A pause. "And, um, yeah."

When they were gone, and as soon as Emil had finished with the online check-ins, he stealthily went back to work on what he had been doing earlier. Headphones in, volume up. The song was far from finished, even with its impressive length, and Emil wouldn't settle on anything less than perfect.

While working for the family company was beneficial and Emil's main source of income, his real passion could be found between the beats and pulses of music. He worked often editing and creating songs in his spare time, which somehow always turned out to be the low periods working at the desk. Still, it wasn't really slacking off; Emil remained efficient with his job, and his argument was that if they hadn't wanted him to turn to moody, exotic art to express himself in his boredom, they shouldn't have made him share the dirty work of dealing with people. Mathias seemed to be much better at it, but then again, Mathias could make conversation in an empty room. Emil could appreciate humans from afar.

One day, Emil wanted to bring his "spare time work" back home to Iceland. He loved his family, and truly did enjoy working with them, but also yearned to start something of his own.

He finally sat back, pressing play for what he hoped was the last time. The song's melody faded in, drifting at first like the wind, and then falling to the ground and spreading roots. Emil closed his eyes. This was it, he thought. He had found it. The background beat was just the perfect volume; easily overshadowed by the other effects, but essential and perfectly tuned to the rest of the composition. Notes so clear Emil could feel the sound waves bouncing around, ricocheting back and forth inside his headphones. A melody that managed to sound violent and pleasant at the same time, that ignored his ears and jumped straight to his heart. Emil sighed aloud. It was finally his, it was finally—

"Excuse me, sir?"

Emil's eyes shot open. There was a man at the desk. In confusion, Emil glanced back at his computer screen, but the only explanation it gave was the blank face of his audio organization program. Then common sense caught up, and Emil paused the music, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Um, sorry. Who—What can I help...what can I help you with?" He tried not to think about how long the man might have been standing there, waiting.

"I'm here to check in," the man said, setting his wallet on the counter. He held up his identification.

"Right. Yes." Emil tabbed over to the check-in site, trying desperately not to cringe. "You're...let's see...you're Eduard Von Bock?"

"Yep!" The man began to make hesitant casual conversation about how he was from Estonia, and he had a week off from work, and yesterday he had all of a sudden gotten this _feeling_ he had to come skiing, and he found this place online and just _had_ to come here, and it was so pretty and everyone on his blog thought so, too, and—

"You'll stay in guesthouse three. Does that work?" From a stack on the desk, Emil pulled a map of the resort grounds, circling in red marker the important locations and the little house, clustered together in a village of other private guesthouses. He set the corresponding key next to it.

"Ah. Yes, thank you." The man stared at the map. "This is so neat!"

Emil nodded curtly. "Enjoy your stay! Um, have you skied before?"

He looked up in awe and shook his head _no_. "I can't wait!"

As soon as the man had wandered off, Emil let out a sigh. He quickly saved and closed out of his music, vowing to never be caught off-guard ever again, just in time to catch a glimpse of another new name on the online site. He blinked. No, not another _one_ , another _two._ Emil blinked again. Another _four._ What was happening? Had the Estonian man only been a harbinger of something huge to come?

"Good morning!" Someone else was at the desk, one of the new guests. Emil regained his composure and turned to deal with them, only to find that there wasn't just one person, but a small line. Growing. He almost wished he had left his headphones on!

"What is this," Emil muttered to himself. "Oh, sorry, not you," he told the customer, who had raised an eyebrow. "Identification, please."

Outside, the snow began to fall a little harder, and in between check-ins, Emil started to wonder if the parking lot would need more melting ice or a bright-vested traffic director first. Perhaps both. He begrudgingly decided, when the queue didn't thin out, to make his call.

Lukas answered on the first ring. "So you _do_ need help after all?"

"They're _everywhere_ ," Emil grumbled. "This is berserk."

Distantly, he heard Mathias's voice chanting, "I'm on my way!" before he hung up to face the next eager skier.


	4. Fine, Berwald

Berwald scratched at the lenses with the sleeve of his green sweater. Turning on the lamp, he inspected them further under the light. Clean enough, he deduced. He put his glasses back on and stared at the strange object on Tino's nightstand.

Now, when had that gotten there? And more importantly, what _was_ it?

He reached out to pick it up. Surprised to find how dramatic its landscaping was, Berwald turned it over, inspecting it from all sides. The object's surface was stone-cold, and its coloring confused him, appearing to gleam differently in every angle of reflection. To Berwald, it appeared to be some attachment to an engine, or another appliance, but why it sat on the nightstand he hadn't a clue. Sometimes Tino brought home things he found while out and about, like wildflowers in the summer and interesting rocks, but obviously this hadn't been crafted by nature. Berwald squinted. Maybe it had.

Something brushed against his ankle. He looked down and got a full blast of deep soul from Hanatamago's wide, dark eyes. She let out a whine, a signal interpreted by him as "time to go to the bathroom." He decided, as he stood and stroked Hanatamago's back, he would find out from Tino later what the alien object was doing in their bedroom.

Hanatamago led the way down the hall, soft paws pattering against the carpet. Berwald, following closely, crossed into the living room. Peter was crashed on the couch, one hand in a bowl of snacks, the other typing sloppily away at a laptop keyboard.

"Not sick enough to be eating so much sugar?" Berwald asked, frowning.

Peter threw a blanket over himself in reply, hiding under it. The snack packaging crinkled loudly.

Berwald opened the front door for Hanatamago, who dashed out gratefully. He should really have installed a doggy door by now, Berwald thought. Turning his attention back to Peter, he walked over and carefully tucked back the blanket. Peter whined as the snacks were whisked away from him. "Hey, give that back! I say, one more cookie really won't be any harm!"

"It is time for lunch," Berwald countered simply, giving his son a little pat on the head. Peter's forehead didn't feel as hot as he had claimed that morning.

Peter pushed the laptop away, slumping down into the sofa's pillows. " _Ughhhh_ , I don't think I could eat _anything_ now. Not with _this_ stomachache!"

Berwald crossed around the furniture, setting the snacks back down in the kitchen. He gave the tiniest of smiles. "You told us it was a headache."

Peter seemed to think for a second, leaning back as Berwald came near again. "Well, that too. It's kind of...it's kind of just a general _ache_ , you know."

"I am sure I know." Berwald turned to open the front door again, venturing out into the chilled Nuoskajoki midday air. He searched for Hanatamago's white coat, difficult to detect among the snow, and found her rooting around in the frozen flowerbeds, having finished her business. A cool breeze blew past, and she perked up. "In," Berwald advised, patting his leg. The dog responded by coming to him. They both reentered the house, shutting the door quickly against the cold. It had snowed yesterday, and by the look of the deep, heavy cloud cover, it could just as well snow again today.

Berwald poured out a portion of dog food for Hanatamago's lunch, and she wolfed it down with fervor. Then Berwald set about making a lunch for Peter and himself. He decided on sandwiches with leftover vegetables; simple, for he knew he would probably have to work in the resort kitchen as soon as Tino got home. "You sure you are not hungry?"

When Peter didn't answer, Berwald abandoned slicing bread and walked over to the couch. Peter was once again hunched over his laptop, typing furiously at some sort of online chat. He jumped when Berwald asked, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Peter tried at first to close out of the tab, but after a few misses gave up and simply slammed the laptop lid closed instead. "I'm watching TV!"

Berwald, knowing Peter's habits, might have been inclined to believe it if the TV hadn't been dead off at the moment. He stood tall and stared disapprovingly at Peter, willing him to confess.

The boy held his gaze for one...two...three seconds before flinching away, his already-pink face taking on more red. " _Fine_ , if you insist!" He crossed his arms crossly, glaring at the glow of the closed computer. "I'm defending my blog from haters."

"Then I hope you are doing it respectfully," Berwald warned, folding the blanket. "You should be at school."

Peter pouted. "I'm telling you, I _still_ don't feel good. For real!" He was seized by a cough of indeterminate authenticity.

"Who were you typing to?" Berwald picked up another blanket to fold.

"My—my friends. My Internet friend. Well, not really 'friend.' I think he _thinks_ we're friends because I send him memes, but he has _no_ idea, really." A pause. "I _know_ people; I'm basically famous."

Berwald now had nothing left to fold but his arms. "What if he is just using _you_ for the memes?"

Peter stared. " _Holy_ —I mean, _whoa_. I—I never thought about it like that before." He gave a surprised sneeze. "I'm surprised an old man like you even knows what a meme is!"

Berwald was saved from having to reply to such a comment by the ringing of his cell phone, echoing throughout the kitchen. He gave Peter one last look, then went to answer it.

Tino's voice carried over the line, lifting Berwald's spirits. "Hey!"

"H-Hello."

"How are you? How's Peter feeling? I will try to come home as soon as I can; I am on lunch break now. Oh! I got a call from Mathias. He said it was 'urgent.' Come to the resort immediately, he said. I don't know what it means. Do you?"

"No. He has not called me." Berwald leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the phone against his shoulder with his ear. "Peter is...doing okay." He began to finish preparing lunch.

"I'm afraid I'm still feeling dreadfully ill!" Peter called in from the living room. "But don't worry if you have to leave—I'll be fine!"

Berwald relayed this to Tino, who seemed unsure of whether to laugh. "That boy, he _better_ be truly sick when I get home! Uh, I'll be home soon!"

Then, remembering the strange thing still sitting on the nightstand, Berwald almost thought to mention it. He waited a second. Tino seemed busy...and Berwald himself apparently had to get over to the resort...and he and Peter still hadn't eaten their lunch yet…

Any purpose faded from his mind. "See you soon," he told Tino.

However, the phone rang again as soon as they had finished caringly telling each other goodbye. The name on the screen was Mathias's.

"What?" answered Berwald, whipping out sandwich plates with a sinking feeling they were soon to be the first of a long line of plates he would have to put food on that day.

Mathias sounded rushed and out of breath. "Well, friendly salutations to you, too. Anyway, to the point—you know how so many people checked in yesterday? You have to get over to the restaurant _as_ soon as possible. They've all gotten _hungry_! My perfect date night is ruined!"

* * *

 **Hey, everyone. Sorry for the shortish chapter(s)** — **it's been a little difficult planning out the timing for this story, so this is what works.**

 **I'm on Tumblr now as rebels-advocate. Posted there is just some art right now, but I have a great Christmas-themed story idea in mind (I know right, _another_ one) and might use that as a platform to advertise it, as well as my other stories and ideas. Come along so I'm not lonely!**


	5. Go, Lukas!

Lukas kept his mind as clear as the air before him as he sailed over the next hill. They had gotten another few hours of light snowfall that morning, which was pleasing, but it had let up, and now the tracks of that day's skiers covered the side of the mountain. A lot of them were Lukas's own; today he had helped pave the way for uncertain visitors on the intermediate slopes. And they had had a _lot_ of visitors. Like the small group he was skiing alongside now—the last he had to accompany that evening.

Swerving in a zigzag pattern, he watched one of the men—who had said he was from Romania—falter. Lukas held his breath, but at the last second the newcomer adjusted and regained his balance. He whooped with glee, the lights along the piste flashing off his toothy, goggled face. The other newcomer, the Englishman, was behind them, heading at a more cautious pace. He had told Lukas he didn't want to get sore. Every once in awhile, however, Lukas would check back, and the man would be straying far to one side, sticking out his pole so his hand could graze the fresh snow off the spruces and pines.

Every time he pondered it, Lukas could never come up with an explanation for the resort's sudden surplus of visitors. They had run out of space in the small parking lots, so people had begun to create their own spaces off the roads, in the frozen dirt. The stayhouses and hotel were booking up faster than Emil could check in the customers. Berwald had been doing overtime in the restaurant, and poor Tino was doing his best to help around his teaching schedule. Nuoskajoki was special to their family, of course, but why was it becoming special to so many others in such short a time? There were always bigger, fancier resorts to visit, and bigger towns with more interesting things to do or see, so why were so many people from so many places, at this time, being drawn _here?_

If someone else had asked Lukas the question, he might have responded smartly that it could only be magic. Now, he began to wonder about that answer himself.

Or Mathias's planning and leadership had really caught on with the masses. At least, that was what _Mathias_ had claimed, but only before getting distressed about having to reschedule their date. Right now, the Dane was either helping housekeeping or aiding skiers off the lifts (Lukas could barely remember all the extra odd jobs the man picked up), but soon Mathias would have to triple-check the extra equipment stocks, which was where Lukas planned to meet him.

Another few smaller hills, and they had reached the bottom of the slope. Lukas was slowing down and keeping watch for the Romanian, who had disappeared around a corner, when suddenly he was hit with a whoosh of air as another skier rushed by him. "Erm, I'm terribly sorry," called the Englishman with panic in his voice, "but could you explain once more, erm, exactly, how I'm supposed to _stop_!?"

"Spread your skis apart!" Lukas shouted, hoping the man wasn't already too far away to hear him. They would run out of slope soon. He and his consort rounded the corner, gradually gliding slower and slower. The Englishman's legs were at a 100-degree angle.

"Like this?" he wheezed. The tips of his skis were crossing over each other, but he had finally come to a complete stop a few meters ahead.

Lukas stifled a laugh. "Yes, exactly." Oh. _Pray the other one remembered to do the same…_

The question was answered for him when he looked ahead and saw two long cuts through the snow, ending where two stray ski poles stuck out of the mountain at violent angles. The Romanian was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, all went quiet, until the man's head popped out of a giant pile of white powder a few feet away from the wreckage site. He was grinning. Shaking himself off, he hollered, "That was great! Go, go, go! Let's go again!"

By the time Lukas got off the piste, his legs were exhausted and his lungs burned from the fast, cold air. He decided to skip his regular five kilometer warm-up run the next morning. He was dreaming about a hot shower—that is, if there _was_ any hot water—until Mathias's head poked around the corner, and then he began to dream instead about a hot coffee and a hot date.

"It's late," said Lukas, tossing his goggles into his bag and trading his ski jacket for a thicker, proper coat. He wanted to switch out of his sweaty pants as well, but figured that he would need the extra thermal layers where they were going. Lacing up his shoes, he felt Mathias step in closer.

"Won't stop me," he answered, smiling. "I even convinced our friends in the restaurant to stay open just a little bit longer."

"I'm grateful," Lukas replied, even later, as he took the steaming, insulated cup from Tino. "We won't stay long, though."

"Ah, of course." Tino passed another empty tray to Berwald, who was on dish duty while Tino wiped down the tables and swept the floors. Then he paused in his wiping and sweeping to look at Lukas, a different look than the one he had given seconds before. "Actually, could you talk to me sometime later?" He looked unsure and hesitant.

While Mathias and Berwald harassed each other in the kitchen, Lukas leaned in conspiratorially and studied Tino. The whole room was warm and smelled faintly of spices. "What is wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Tino quickly looked back at his cleaning. "I just...I found something cool the other day, and…" He stopped. Stared blankly. Continued. "I guess we've all been wondering why the—why the big influx of people, right?"

"I have been wondering, yes." Lukas took a careful sip of his drink. (It was perfect: not unbearable, yet hot enough it scalded his mouth a little.)

"Ah, it's nothing. Just some weird rock I found, is all. Thought you might like a look at it or something. In the river."

"Look at it in the river?"

"Yes. No! It's on my nightstand."

Lukas took another sip. "On your nightstand. My apologies—how did you say it relates to the influx of people?"

Tino's eyes dimmed; a cloud seemed to pass over him. "Oh, it's nothing. Never mind."

Mathias appeared back from the kitchen. "Lukas! This crazy Swedish cleaning man is threatening to throw me out of this fine establishment! Who does he think he is? We gotta go!"

Lukas took Mathias's arm, but gave his attention to Tino. "Get good rest tonight, Tino." He did not know what else to say. Tino was obviously bothered, and bothered enough to not want to bother Lukas with what he was bothered about. He doubted it was _nothing_. "You've worked hard." He would approach Tino about it some other time, or at least let Berwald know, for he might be able to understand Tino better. "And Mathias, please leave the crazy Swedish cleaning man alone. We have places to be."

Berwald took a step into the room, a rag in hand, his arms covered with soap. "At this hour?"

"Yeah," Mathias japed, placing his unlinked arm on his hip. "I have _places_ to be. I have _things_ to do. I—oh." He looked at Lukas. "Whoops."

Lukas pressed his lips together. "Well, goodnight, everyone." He intentionally didn't make eye contact with Mathias. "Come, Mathias. We have... _things_ to do."

The night was so cold it nipped and bit. They walked through Nuoskajoki's small streets, absently searching for the Northern Lights without realizing it, and when the colorful apparitions did not appear, redirecting their attention to the small glowing buildings that housed the too many visitors enjoying a little après-ski. Slowly, they meandered their way back around the resort, avoiding the overflowing car lots and instead heading for the trees beyond, their coffees keeping them warm. Only a few meters in and it was like they had entered the wild, were miles lost in the forest. Tall, dark trees surrounded them, but the stars were faintly visible between the branches and the clouds to light their way. Mathias used the flashlight on his cell phone. Lukas knew the trail.

"Do you think it will be like this next season?" Mathias asked, finally breaking the stillness of the night. The part of his face that wasn't buried into his scarf was pink, and his eyes bright.

"You mean if we'll have so many people? I don't know." Lukas paused, bringing them closer together by entwining their coat-covered arms further. "Emil told me there was a man who checked in a couple days ago that claimed he was famous online, and had told everyone on his blog about coming here."

Mathias's breath visibly floated up to the sky. "Yesterday I met this awesome guy from Germany who was backpacking across Europe with his two friends, or something. They said they had just 'stumbled upon' us. Can you believe that? Stumbled upon us, way up here?"

"The people I was skiing with tonight said they had simply just gotten the urge to go on a vacation," Lukas reflected, though something inside him doubted something about all the stories. It felt too dreamlike to be reality. "It _is_ magic."

They came to a stop, slower than skis. Mathias turned around to face Lukas, though his blue eyes were still cast upon the sky, the stars and clouds reflected in them. "Soon we'll have enough to get, like, a real house somewhere. Think about it. You and me and, and Emil, too. All one big family. Or maybe we could all get small houses in our own countries and spend our time divided between them." He thought to himself. "Hmm. That'd be really difficult, but ideal, I guess. Not too far off from what we actually have right now. I...I guess. Just an idea."

Lukas reached forward and pressed a kiss to Mathias's cold lips. "I think they are all wonderful ideas." Caressing Mathias's wild hair wasn't the same with gloves on.

Mathias smiled even wider, and gently closed his eyes. "Maybe we could even live _here_. Hah. Annoy the hell out of Ber and Tino. One big family."

"One big family," Lukas repeated, softly, to the dark forest.

The dark forest heard him, and softly began to whisper back.

* * *

 **Sorry for the somewhat late update, all you guys who have been following this story. Distraction and low motivation happens. Tell me if this chapter makes up for it! (And happy holidays!)**


	6. Wow, Mathias

It was double digits below zero, windy, cloudy, crowded and lunchtime, and Mathias could think of a million horrible places he'd rather be than sitting in a tent on top of a frozen lake next to a Swede. Okay, that wasn't necessarily true. Mathias would prefer icefishing to death, but at least hell was supposed to be warm.

"So, we use this thingy here to cut through the ice by hand," he explained, gesticulating. "And this thingy—"

"It is called an auger," Berwald supplied.

"—is super sharp, so be careful!"

"Wow!" exclaimed a nearby small child spectator. "Can I touch it?"

Mathias laughed to himself, half with hysteria, half with envy; the audience watched on from the shore, completely snug and comfortable with their hot chocolates and their bonfire. "Sorry, kid. Maybe next time."

Berwald continued narrating the lesson: "Now twist the auger into the ice." Mathias huffed, standing over the spot. He twisted, unsure if he felt more frozen or nauseous. Any second, he knew like the lake would collapse and swallow him. His body would be found days later, washed up in Nuoskajoki, and when they dragged him from the river they would say "What a great man he once was." Lukas would laugh at the funeral, tsking something at him about adjusting to the climate. So Mathias paused, wiping sweat off his brow that was actually melted snow. He wished they could just use a fancy augur that would drill for them, but he hadn't bought one yet.

Berwald stepped in, taking the blade from Mathias to finish the job. "Hey!" Mathias protested, but was secretly grateful. "I can—"

"You're doing it wrong," Berwald told him simply.

"Oh, yeah, sure, _whatever_." Mathias hunched back to their chairs like a kicked puppy to prepare the fishing rod. He wanted to sit down, put on his favorite long underwear, snuggle up with Lukas, and never move again. _Lukas_ was probably warm. He was somewhere with Tino at the moment, the last Mathias had heard. Tino had some problem going on, Mathias had heard. And it suspiciously had something to do with the resort's popularity growth spurt, Mathias had heard. He wished he could interrogate the Finn himself; he hated not knowing things. He figured he could just ask Berwald what was up with his husband, but…

"Now clear away the extra ice." Berwald chiseled out the circle. The freezing water beneath shifted and spilled, caught off guard at the exposure.

"And drop in your rod!" Mathias displayed his prepared fishing pole. "We were just going to use fake tackle, but Berwald here stinks so bad the worms basically come right to him!" He dangled the supply shop-purchased night crawler out so all the children could see.

"Ew!" a child squealed, the same one that had asked to touch the auger earlier.

Berwald took a step back from Mathias. "Be careful where you wave that. Your hair is a hazard; it would get stuck, build a nest, and feel right at home."

"Hah, but I'm wearing a hat!"

Berwald only stared, his point standing.

"Throw the worm at him!" the child screamed. "Fight, fight, fight!" Her mother made an attempt to shush her.

Mathias was almost tempted. "But then how would we catch our fish?" He hunched over the hole, knees burning as he took a squat position. The crowd of spectators watched in anticipation as he dangled the shivering worm over the frigid waters, waited another second for full effect, and plunked in the line.

"Wow," ooed the crowd.

Mathias grinned. "Amazing, right? And this next part is the best part: the long, eternal waiting!"

Berwald dragged over the chairs; Mathias and he dropped easily into them. Since the lesson was very low budget, Berwald took the fishing pole from Mathias and simply propped it up between the frame of his chair. Mathias dug out a blanket from his pack, and then together, they burrowed under the warmth.

Once the audience had finished their hot chocolates, they too as well ventured out onto the ice. Mathias and Berwald abandoned their hole to help others carve their own, and soon the surface of the lake was covered in watery polka-dots and happy chitchat. _This_ was what Mathias liked and did best while running the resort—interacting with the people. He met little kids from halfway across the globe and families that said they lived just the next town over. He rejoiced to find a group of people from his own country, and laughed when the rambunctious little girl from earlier tried to convince him to stick his arm below the ice and pull out the fish with his own hands. Berwald seemed to be having a good time, too—his glasses speckled with snowflakes, his face bright pink from the cold as he helped a squeamish young boy hook a squiggling worm. An hour had passed before Mathias remembered he had his own line to man.

Berwald was already tending to it when Mathias slunk back to their hole. Their bobber had been going crazy, flashing red and white everywhere. Berwald began to reel in their catch as Mathias hunched over to watch.

"Whoa!" Mathias exclaimed. Berwald plucked an enormous green-gray fish from the water. It wiggled a couple of times and then went limp. It was the largest fish Mathias had ever seen in his short history of helping Berwald with ice fishing. "This is awesome!"

Berwald looked impressed as well. "We will have to keep it," he acknowledged, carefully setting the creature into their cooler. "It will make a good meal."

"I'll say," retorted Mathias. And once again, he questioned their good fortune.

* * *

The restaurant was a haven, and Mathias and Berwald hurried in like it was the last warm place on earth. Tino and Lukas were already sitting in a booth conversing over coffee, while noises echoed from the kitchen, undoubtedly Emil's.

Berwald strode over to his husband easily, but Mathias found himself at a standstill. Lukas's face was serious, save for the soft smile he glimpsed Mathias walking in. Then his features took back a deep demeanor as Tino rambled on, perking up when Berwald sat down next to him. The three resumed conversation promptly.

A melody floated through the air along with the lasting smells of baked bread and saucy meat. Mathias turned towards the kitchen.

Emil was wiping down counters with earbuds on, his music leaking from the earpieces. Mathias approached him and pulled one out. "Do you know how loud this is?" he asked Emil with his voice raised.

Emil jumped; Mathias guffawed. "Ack! Leave me alone! They forced this job upon me, so I may as well do it in peace!"

Mathias had stuck the earbud into his own ear, twisting the cord. He listened for a couple of beats. "Hey, this is kinda good, actually. Is this your own?"

Emil's face went bright red. "How do you know?"

"Lukas."

"Damn Lukas."

Mathias closed his eyes. The song was earthy and solid, with harmony that flushed like the wind, and just the right amount of bass. Mathias imagined calm meadows, and then when the sound picked up, soaring waterfalls. He opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. "Are you going to add singing to this?"

Emil was staring down at the shiny counter, unmoving. "I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe. I think it's good without it, but lyrics might be helpful. You know, like, to understand. I don't know."

Mathias closed his eyes again, another wave of emotion piercing him. "Will _you_ sing it?"

"Definitely not." Emil shook his head, his face going redder. "I mean—"

"Gimme that." Mathias plucked the second earbud from him. "I like this." The moment he set the second earbud in his ear, the already flawless sound quality of the song doubled. Mathias felt utterly ripped away from the outside world.

Emil let it happen, staring. After a second, he proclaimed, "Fine. Then you do this. It's not my work anyway." He set his phone on the counter and plopped the wet rag into the Dane's hand, then skirted across the kitchen to make himself a coffee.

Mathias slowly began taking over Emil's job, tranced. He moved the washrag to the beat of the song, forgetting about the rest of his problems and concerns. He only knew vaguely of Emil's hobby, and hadn't realized just how good he was at it. Maybe he could get Emil to mix some of this stuff for background tracks to play in the après-ski bars. Maybe Emil should just release an album and break out as the next top artist. Mathias smiled at the thought. Back home, Mathias only had his little bakery and his little apartment. Emil was working here as a _desk_ jockey, when one day he could be a world-famous _disc_ jockey with a fanbase and a mansion...

He blinked as the song ended. His dreams had been getting away from him lately, delusions of grandeur prompted by the success of the resort. He had to remember to consider everyone else.

Mathias crossed the kitchen to toss the rag in the sink. "This is really good," he told Emil as he passed him. Mathias ripped out the earbuds and handed them back, along with Emil's phone. "I mean, _really_ good."

Emil looked down into his drink. "Thank you."

They crossed back into the dining area, where Tino, Lukas, and Berwald were still rapt in their conversation. Mathias leaned against the doorway, watching their expressions. Tino seemed worried, while Lukas looked like he was trying to solve a difficult puzzle. Berwald had his arm around Tino and was watching him closely.

"Do you know what's going on?" Mathias inquired.

Emil took a sip of his drink. "No clue. I hope it's about the hot water problem in the stayhouses. Three different angry ladies shouted at me this morning over the phone. There's just _too_ many people now, Mathias. It's not good or fun anymore."

Mathias scratched at his hair, remembering how Lukas and Tino had been talking a few days earlier. When Berwald had joined him in the restaurant even before, he had mentioned being worried about Tino. Something was obviously up, more major than Mathias had previously considered. The song had relaxed him, but the sensation faded away as he came to terms with the possibility of there being real trouble in his family. That was something they did not want, especially at a time like this. Mathias watched on, vowing to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

 **Might as well keep this going I guess...**


End file.
